


Taste Tester

by PetrichorPerfume



Series: Shenanigans [195]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Doggy Style, Dogs, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Not really but I couldn't resist, Officer Good - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 17:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10971522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: In which Dean and Castiel acquire and feed an entire pound's worth of dogs.





	Taste Tester

**Author's Note:**

> I know I haven't posted in a long, long while, but I was working through some personal things, and then I was working on an original novel. It's a space opera, in case anyone was wondering. 
> 
> Now, I am working on several Supernatural projects. I will be finishing this series in the weeks and months to come. We're close to Part 200 of Shenanigans, so I might stop at 225 - a nice 'round' (ish) number. I've really enjoyed writing this series, and I've enjoyed reading your comments just as much. 
> 
> Please enjoy this latest installment. There will be more to come. 
> 
> Also! To anyone who has made a request for a story, I will try my best to deliver. 
> 
> I'd like to thank all my readers, both old and new, because you're awesome. I love you... I love all of you. ;-)

Dean had never been, but he was quite sure his personal Heaven was going to be kind of like a buffet – full of endless food and infinite choices.

 

So, when he walked into the kitchen to find plates of food stretched out across every flat surface (and some surfaces that weren’t so flat), he was almost certain he’d briefly died in his sleep and gone to Heaven’s version of the Bunker, complete with the myriad dishes of food he saw before him.

 

He gently freed a piece of pasta from what looked like a sumptuous sauce, brought it to his mouth, and promptly spit it out again. “Well, there goes that theory,” he groused.

 

Dean walked along the edge of the table, nearly tripping over what was either a very obedient or a very full dog, and hazarded to try another dish. Somehow, it managed to be burnt and soggy at the same time, and he reluctantly swallowed.

 

“Dean,” Cas greeted from the other end of the kitchen.

 

Hearing his name, Dean looked up from his staring contest with the dog, who was eying the half-eaten bite of food in his hand. “Hey, Cas. I think one of our angels forgot how to cook,” he joked.

 

That turned out to be the wrong thing to say, as Castiel’s face immediately fell and the angel began to shake. “The dog is more grateful than you are,” he said quietly.

 

“Cas,” Dean started, moving his hands about uselessly. “You know I love your cooking. I bet it’s probably just the recipe you used.” He forced a smile.

 

“I used my own recipe,” Cas bit out.

 

“For everything?” Dean asked, paling at the sheer amount of food potentially ruined by his angel’s exploits in cooking.

 

Sighing, Castiel nodded. “For everything,” he confirmed. Then he turned away and said, “The dog will be happy, at least.”

 

“Doesn’t he have a name?” Dean asked of the dog.

 

Another sigh. “Dean, dogs are creatures of grace and majesty, they don’t need names to distinguish themselves from each other. So, no, _she_ does not have a name, nor will she ever.”

 

Dean sensed his angel was on the verge of a meltdown, so he said, “Cas, come here,” and opened his arms wide.

 

Eyes filling with tears, Cas shook his head. “Look at how much food I wasted,” he whimpered.

 

“Look at how happy you made our dog,” Dean countered.

 

“She’s not ours. I just borrowed her from the pound for a while.”

 

At that, the dog whimpered and buried her head in her paws. Dean knelt down beside her. “Don’t listen to him. You’re ours, now, and you’ve got a ton of food to keep you satisfied for days. What do they feed you at the pound?” He poked her at her visible ribs. “Not enough, I’d say.” He stood back up to his full height and smiled at Cas. “You might not be the best cook in the world, but I bet we can make a lot of dogs very happy with this...” He searched for the right word for a moment before settling upon, “Banquet.”

 

Cas grinned. “To the pound?”

 

“Lead the way.”

 

***

 

And that was the story of how Dean and Castiel acquired and fed fifty-six dogs, thirteen of whom were puppies. For a while, everything went splendidly. The dogs were happy. Castiel was happy, which meant Dean was doubly so.

 

Then the dogs started pooping. At first, it was only the puppies, and it was almost cute. Then the other dogs joined in.

 

By the time Officer Good came around to knock on the door, Dean and Castiel were in full-fledged panic mode.

 

“I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life,” Dean gasped as he flung open the door.

 

“I heard that the local pound experienced an unusual robbery,” Officer Good said with a smile.

 

“It was us,” Cas said, unrepentant.

 

“Fifty-something dogs disappearing from their locked cages in less than one minute? I would think so.” When Dean opened his mouth to speak, Officer Good stopped him with a raised hand. “I’m sure you had a good reason for this particular misdemeanor, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take the dogs back to their rightful guardians.”

 

“I’d be afraid if you hadn’t said that,” Dean said.

 

At that point, Castiel whistled. The dogs stopped what they were doing and came to form three neat rows behind the angel.

 

Officer Good hesitated. “Will they follow me?”

 

“Sure as sugar,” Castiel affirmed.

 

There was another pause, then Officer Good handcuffed them together, quick as a whip. “I can’t put you in jail, because I know your family will just bail you out. So, this is your punishment.” He shook his finger at them. “Think about what you’ve done.” He turned to go. “Come along, dogs.”

 

The dogs departed after Officer Good in their three little rows, all fifty-six of them save for the original dog Castiel had kidnapped to be his taste-tester. She might not be a good kitchen aid, but she was a very good dog, as her family never ceased to tell her in the months and years to come.

 

As for Dean and Castiel, they walked in to find that the rest of their family had returned. Michael had promptly fixed their little ‘problem’ as well as restocking the pantry shelves.

 

“Do I even want to know what you two have been up to in our absence?” He asked, hands on his hips. “And why are you hand-cuffed together?” He raised his hand to snap, but Castiel stopped him.

 

“Dean and I are being punished for our good deeds. Woe is me,” Cas answered, shaking his head bitterly. Then he perked up. “Come, Dean, let’s go enjoy our exile.”

 

Dean gave Michael a big thumbs-up and he and Castiel made their way to their bedroom. “Worth it,” he whispered.

 

 


End file.
